Free Forbidden Love by Shirley Martin Page B

think they give a damn about the workers? Devil take me! They live like emperors while we work like dogs and live like animals for our miserable fourteen cents an hour. If the skilled workers go on strike, then we do, too. We have no choice. But God, how can we get along without our wages?" He made a futile attempt at humor. "It's like they always say--no work, no pork; no money, no baloney." With a grim smile, he bade his friend goodbye, bracing himself for the long double shift.
     
    * * *
     
    Tight-lipped, Owen strode into the library of the Enright mansion. Enright looked up from his wide mahogany desk, a sheet of paper in his hand, a frown on his face. Despite Owen's irritation, he studied the man in front of him, noting his oiled hair, sleekly-parted at the side, his fingernails--manicured!--his hands, soft as a baby's.
    "Ah, Cardiff . So you received my letter," Enright said, not offering him a chair. His blue eyes held no warmth but reflected a soul as cold as the snow on the frozen ground. This man was Lisa's husband, the one who had the right to hold her in his embrace, make love to her . . .
    Owen stood with his arms held loosely at his side. "Yes, and frankly, I'm at a loss to understand the purpose of your message. You mentioned you wanted to discuss the land I bought in Munhall, but I've been making regular payments."
    Enright scoffed. "At three percent interest. Highway robbery! Let's make that seven percent."
    "Now just a minute! Mr. Bradley and I had an agreement--"
    "A written agreement?"
    His heart sank, but he quickly recovered. "No, a gentlemen’s agreement."
    Enright flicked his forefinger at the paper he held. "That's what I think of gentlemen's agreements."
    "Very well! You'll get your payments at seven percent." He shot Enright a hard look. "Why didn't you call me on the telephone?"
    Enright smirked. "Call you? You keep different hours than I do." He gave him a twisted smile. "Besides, I wanted to make sure you understood."
    "Understood! It's fairly plain, isn't it? And talk about highway robbery--" Owen spun away and left the room, resisting the temptation to slam the door. Striding down the long hall, he didn't at first see Lisa by the front door. When he caught sight of her, all anger was forgotten, leaving only happiness, as if he'd been granted everything wonderful in life.
      "Owen, what are you doing here?" She raised her arms to remove her hat, her cheeks rosy from the cold, a look of pleased surprise on her face. She placed her hat on the coat rack, where a black coat already resided. He observed the ripple of the sensuous white silk blouse across her full breasts, the hug of the black skirt around her slim waist and slender hips, its supple swing about her ankles as she stepped forward. He saw all these things and wanted her like he’d never wanted anything or anyone. He ached for her, every beat of his heart pounding for her.
    "Not now," he murmured, swallowing hard. "I'll tell you later."
    "Are you coming to the literary group tomorrow night?" She slowly removed her hatpin and set the hat on a table, her vibrant brown eyes fixed on him the entire time. He thought it oddly pleasant how she could imbue every motion with a certain grace, an innate charm all her own.
    "Yes, I'll be there," he said, afraid to tarry, fearful of what he might say, what he might do . . . take her in his arms, kiss her sweet lips. "I must be going. Good-bye, Lisa," he said after a pause.
    "Good-bye."
    Careful to conceal his emotions, he stepped outside. Once there, he turned back to stare at the door, the image of her still vivid in his memory. He recalled everything about her that made her so lovely, the sweep of her lustrous brown hair crowning her head, the bloom of her cheeks, the swell of her breasts beneath her blouse. He remembered the fullness of her bottom lip, the way she ran her tongue along her lip in an unconscious gesture of sensuality. Even now, he could still smell her lavender scent, a fragrance